...This is a little nuts. Granted, it's my own fault, because I am requesting manuscripts left and right, but it's also not my fault, because when you find a good book (or several) what else are you supposed to do?
As you might know from my +1 Post a couple weeks ago, I signed a fantastic new author--hurrah for Jenni! I'm also in the midst of reading about twelve manuscripts and editing some author revisions, so I'm up to my eyeballs in text.
Oh yeah, and I didn't get my dream apartment on the Upper West Side, so I'm still involved in a massive apartment-hunt (which sounds like manhunt, but only slightly less vicious).
I do love being busy, especially in the summer when things can get excruciatingly slow in publishing, yet I also like to breathe every once in awhile. And, you know, go to the beach or something.
New York beaches are a bit of a mystery to me, though. In Connecticut, beaches have big stone jetties that you can climb on during low tide, cute mom 'n pop stores that sell fried clams and ice cream, and a mix of enviously large waterfront mansions and laid back rental cottages full of college kids. New York beaches are right next to big Rite Aids and liquor stores, have theme parks, boardwalks with tattoo parlors, and absolutely no shade anywhere.
When I first moved to the city, I went to Coney Island with some friends and was amazed. You get off the subway and walk down the most ghetto street ever, where people are selling dollar sodas from homemade wheeling coolers and are peddling fried bananas on sticks. It's a lot of fun, but definitely not what I think of when I think of going to the beach. Not sure that there is going to be much beach time in my immediate summer future, but given the fact I burn like bacon in a fry pan, that's also not necessarily a bad thing.
I don't have any photos from when I went to Coney Island, so it looks like my non-stock image pledge is going to bite the dust here.